


Reunions

by rachel_exe



Series: Geraskier Prompts [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Feels, Fix-It, Kissing, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, brief mention of jaskier sleeping with someone else, no cheating tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24002752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel_exe/pseuds/rachel_exe
Summary: A few months after the accident with the dragon, Jaskier and Geralt meet again.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667848
Comments: 10
Kudos: 314





	Reunions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Prompts for this were "We're...just friends" and "Could he make you feel as good as I do?". Please enjoy yet another post ep 6 fic!

“Thank you, thank you very much,” Jaskier says, bowing to the people clapping at him. “It’s been a pleasure singing for you tonight, it truly has, but it’s time for me to rest my voice. One has to take great care of it if he doesn’t want to sound like a frog.”

Some people laugh, other whine in protest, someone even dares to sound relieved, but Jaskier tilts his head once more and stuffs in his pockets what the audience has thrown at him, be it coin or food. He has sung one of his most popular ballads tonight, but he feels his repertoire is lacking something more adventurous, a song that would make everyone sit on the edge of their seats, enthralling them with incredible perils and great loves. He doesn’t have anything new to sing about, however. The last time he tried to get some new material, it just ended up in a heartbreak. 

He walks to the counter of the tavern where he sits to drink a mug of ale. The bitter taste spreads in his mouth and fills his chest, reinvigorating him after his show. There is nothing better than a good cup of ale after a successful performance. Well, there actually is, or was, but not right now, not anymore. For this evening he has to settle for yet another night spent with a fellow bard, one that is bad both as a singer and in bed. 

As he drinks his beer, he assists at the performance of the man that has taken his place on the stage. No butterflies, no sparkles of excitement light in his chest as he watches the guy he’s been sleeping with for the past couple of nights. He is plain, nothing about him really stands out, no scars or brooding frown, but ever since the dragon accident, Jaskier hasn’t been able to sleep by himself. He needs the company, needs someone to distract him from the hole in his chest and to stop his mind from thinking about the bitter words that broke his heart. 

When the performance thankfully ends - the audience isn’t as enthusiastic about it as when Jaskier was singing - the bard joins the brunet at the counter, ordering something to drink too. 

“Tonight has been a success, hasn't it?” he asks. “People in this village have a fantastic taste.” 

“Do they now?” Jaskier retorts, very much doubting his partner’s judgement. 

“Yes, we’ve been coming here for a few days now, and everyone is still enjoying our songs.” 

“True.” 

Jaskier doesn’t feel like talking right now, doesn't really feel like doing anything but think about the past. The idea of needing new songs has re-opened an old wound not completely healed yet. It has been only a few months since all his hopes and dreams have been crushed, and it’s too soon to move on even for him. 

“I’m heading back,” he says, pushing the stool back and standing up. 

“Wait, I’m coming too. I’m done here.” 

Jaskier shrugs and pays for his ale, taking his lute before heading outside. It’s a beautiful night, the full moon is out, and there’s no need for other sources of light to see the street ahead. Maybe he could sing yet another ballad about it, the great moon in love with the sun, melting under its fiery touch. Jaskier shakes his head; he really has hit the bottom of the barrel if he’s thinking about writing something like that. 

He is walking down the streets to get to his room, his fellow bard chatting away about their show, when a shadow moves in an alley near them. The narrow path is too dark for him to be certain of it, the moonlight struggles to reach it, but Jaskier is almost sure he has seen something move there. A drunkard looking for a place to throw up in, maybe, or a thief ready to steal their hard-earned money. It could be anything really, so Jaskier picks up the pace, not wanting to find out what it actually is. This is not the adventure he needs for his ballad. 

Even his partner is quiet now, and they hurry to the inn, walking down the street illuminated by the moonlight. It is because of that light that Jaskier sees him. He’s leaning against a wall, arms crossed and sword peeking out from behind his shoulder. He knows who he is even before the golden eyes shine in the dark and his figure stands tall in front of him. 

“What’s wrong?” his fellow bard asks when Jaskier stops in the middle of the road. 

“I… I think I forgot something at the tavern,” the brunet mutters, struggling to find enough control to give him a coherent reply. 

The figure moves away from the wall and walks towards him before Jaskier has made a step forward. He is paralysed on the spot, torn between staying and running away. He wants to yell, cry, pretend to be fine, but he can’t do anything, he can just stare as the hooded man now comes into full view. 

“Who are you and what do you want?” Jaskier’s friend asks in an accusing tone. 

The newcomer only spares him a glance, but his eyes are soon on Jaskier again. “Who is this?” 

“We’re… just friends.” 

Why is he so reluctant to tell him the truth? 

The man hums, or better, scoffs and the disgusted look on his face is what finally breaks the spell that has turned Jaskier mute. 

“What do you want, Geralt?” he spits out. “I thought you didn’t want me around, and I certainly don’t want to see you right now, so just move along. What I do with my life now is none of your concern.” 

“I want to talk,” Geralt replies, unfazed by Jaskier’s words. 

“You want to talk,” Jaskier snorts. “Well, I don’t want to. Goodbye.” 

Jaskier makes a move to walk past him, but Geralt holds his arm. “Please.” 

A hint of remorse finally shines in his eyes under the moonlight, and Jaskier doesn’t find it in himself to push him away anymore. 

“Just five minutes.” 

“Alone,” Geralt says, glancing at the man with them. 

“Go on ahead, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done with him,” Jaskier tells his friend. 

“Are you sure? He looks suspicious.” 

“It’s all good, we used to be good friends,” Jaskier says in a bitter tone. 

The bard still examines Geralt, but he then does as Jaskier has told him. 

“This way,” Geralt says once they’re alone. 

Jaskier is still hesitant and hurt, still mad at the witcher for the way he treated him, but he can’t help but give in. Part of him wants to know what he has to say, even hopes for an apology and that’s the only thing that makes his feet move when Geralt walks back into the centre of the village. 

They end up at a different tavern than before, one less crowded and cheerful, and they sit in a corner at the back, away from the rest of the patrons. Geralt doesn't speak for a while, and Jaskier certainly doesn't want to break the silence, so they both drink their beers without uttering a word. 

Geralt hasn’t changed at all, he never really did, so it’s easy for Jaskier’s mind to get lost down memory lane. All those years spent together thrown away like that, all the unspoken feelings between them, the ushered nights, and endless longing. Jaskier hasn’t forgotten any of it, and maybe Geralt hasn’t either, at least that’s what the most hopeful part of Jaskier tells himself. 

“Why are you here, Geralt?” Jaskier finally asks. 

Geralt doesn’t look up from the beer for a few seconds, but when he eventually does, his expression is unreadable. 

“I wanted to know how you were doing.” 

“I’m doing fantastic,” Jaskier scoffs. “Just peachy, I couldn't dream of anything better.” 

“Jaskier.” 

“You yell at me like that and then have the courage to come here to ask how I’m doing? I should have known better than to speak with you again.” 

Jaskier is about to stand up, tired and feeling like an idiot, but Geralt stops him, looking at him with more honest eyes. 

“Stay.” 

“Why are you here?” Jaskier repeats, hurt. 

“I came to see how you were doing.” Jaskier scoffs again, but Geralt is still holding his arm, so he can’t move. “I came to see if your life was better without me, or if it wasn’t.” 

Jaskier frowns in confusion, but when Geralt mimics for him to sit down again, he does it. 

“I think I owe you an apology for what I said,” the witcher surprises him. “I didn’t really mean it, I was mad at the whole ordeal that happened that day.” 

“You still chose to be a dick.” 

“I know, and… I’m sorry, for pushing you away and leaving you behind.” Geralt grips the handle of the mug tighter before adding, “Travelling doesn’t feel the same without you.” 

Jaskier sighs, taking a big gulp from his cup. “So you’re telling me I’ve spent all those nights writing tear-jerking ballads for nothing?” 

“You had the material you needed for your songs.” 

“I want adventures, great loves, and other people’s heartbreak, not my own, it really sucked.” 

Geralt snorts, hiding his smile behind his cup. It’s familiar and comfortable, and Jaskier can’t help the way his heart finally starts beating again. 

“You really broke my heart back there, you know?” he says. 

Geralt stops drinking, looking more sombre. “Not just yours.” 

Jaskier stares at him, doubting his own hearing, but he has seen Geralt’s lips move and the tavern isn’t loud enough for him to have misheard anything. The witcher has really said what he has been dying to hear for so long, and now that he’s sure of it, all his anger is slowly subduing, replaced by a sweet, familiar feeling. 

“Where are you sleeping?” he asks. “Do you have a room?” 

Geralt shakes his head. “I’ve just arrived.” 

“Shit. We can’t use mine either.” 

Geralt’s face darkens at the comment, and he suddenly stands up. “Wait here.” 

“What are you doing?” Jaskier asks, but the witcher is already gone. He sees him speak with the owner of the tavern, sliding a few coins in his hand, and then he’s back. 

“We have a room here.” 

“That eager, huh?” Jaskier says, standing up. “Lead the way then.” 

Behind his confidence, there is nervousness and hesitation. It isn’t the first time they end up in bed together, it happened almost regularly when they used to travel together, but Geralt was never this open, never this impatient, and once again Jaskier finds himself wishing for an end to his tormenting yearning. 

They get undressed as soon as the door closes behind them, and then Geralt is pushing Jaskier on the bed, covering him in kisses and bite marks that have the bard moan in less than a minute. He has been without Geralt’s touch for so long that now he just wants to comply and satisfy that hunger that no one has been able to subdue. Only Geralt could fill his heart like that, could put back in its place the missing piece he lost that day on the mountain, and only he has the power to unravel him like this. 

Urgency and care exude from Geralt’s movements, his fingers work fast on Jaskier’s hole and his tongue hungrily laps at his cock, wrapping Jaskier in a wet tightness that has him already beg for more. He whines while pushing down on Geralt’s hand and easily slides on his tongue, feeling so good the rest of the world doesn’t exist anymore. He runs his hands in Geralt's white hair, he has missed its rough texture, has missed tugging at it while Geralt blows him. 

“Geralt,” he moans, biting his lip. 

The witcher hums and doubles his efforts, taking Jaskier dangerously close to the edge, but just as he feels himself lose control, Geralt moves away and gives him the time to breathe. He doesn’t need time, however, just needs Geralt inside as soon as possible, so he ushers him between his legs and kisses him while Geralt starts to move his hips. 

He feels so good and familiar he almost sobs on his lips. He has undeniably missed all of this, but Geralt has too. He tries to be caring and careful, cold even, but the way he’s holding him is too desperate, too needy, as if trying to make sure he’s actually there. Jaskier reassures him with his kiss and touch, roaming his back and gliding his tongue on his, mapping what he once knew so well and relishing in the intoxicating feeling that is Geralt. 

They don’t waste time before moving in unison, Geralt fucking Jaskier hard and the bard meeting his every thrust. Their mouths still search for each other, but now their kisses are sloppy and messy, saliva dripping down Jaskier’s chin while they both pant in their need. Geralt isn’t gentle nor slow, his fingers are digging in Jaskier’s hips and his teeth often sink into his skin, but that’s how Jaskier likes it; he likes Geralt leaving his mark on him for everyone to see. 

"Could he make you feel as good as I do?" the witcher groans, catching Jaskier off guard. He rarely showed his possessive side in the past, especially since they weren’t a thing, but the rare times he did, it always made Jaskier’s heart race as it’s doing right now. 

“Why? You jealous?” 

Geralt grunts and picks up the pace, hitting Jaskier’s sweet spot with all his force. The movement takes Jaskier's breath away and he loudly moans, throwing his head on the pillow and pulling hard at Geralt’s hair. The witcher presses a kiss on his neck and then sinks his teeth into it. The gesture only makes Jaskier smirk, and confesses what Geralt hasn’t admitted yet. 

It’s only a matter of minutes before Jaskier feels himself close to his orgasm. His hard cock is leaking precum on his stomach and his hole clamps down around Geralt, shivers running up his spine every time he does so. He wraps a hand around his length, thumbing its head and spreading the pearlescent fluid down it before stroking himself. 

Geralt groans, his brows furrow and his hips get faster. He never misses his aim, abusing Jaskier’s prostate to the point it’s uncomfortable, but it’s also so good the bard has a few tears in his eyes. He jerks himself off faster and faster, taking Geralt down for a final kiss as he comes all over himself. Geralt fucks him through it, but as Jaskier twitches around him, his hips stutter and with one last deep thrust, he comes too. 

Afterwards, Jaskier is too tired and sore to move. He hasn’t had such a good fuck in months, and he bathes in the sweet afterglow that settles on him. Geralt isn’t moving either, he’s resting with one arm behind his head, his chest hair sweaty and as soft to the touch as Jaskier remembers. He caress it, twisting it between his fingers before resting his head on top of it. 

Geralt is almost hesitant when he wraps his free arm around the bard’s middle, but Jaskier solves the doubt for him, forcing him to hug him. 

“When are you leaving?” he asks, drawing circles on Geralt’s chest. 

“I don’t know.” 

“I’m coming too?” It comes out more as a question than a statement; Jaskier still hasn’t forgotten the witcher’s words on the mountain. 

“You are. I’m not leaving you behind anymore,” Geralt replies, and this time there is no hesitation, only a promise that he seals with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, this was the last prompt left for now, I had a lot of fun writing all these smutty one shots, and I hope you enjoyed reading them too!  
> [ Tumblr ](https://geraskier-hell.tumblr.com/)


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